Teacher's pet
by redshipper
Summary: She turned just in time to see the junior agent staring. Femslash. Spoilers for The X-Files  post series  and Fringe  pre series


"Straighten your back," she said sternly, walking behind Olivia. She placed her hand at the small of the blonde's back and over her shoulder to help her find the adequate position, making Olivia gasp in surprise.

She watched as the young agent positioned the gun, holding it and aiming at the target, almost perfectly; Scully smiled quietly; continuing her inspection of the other students in line next to the blonde.

Scully enjoyed being back to the Quantico academy and teaching again, helping other young FBI agents become the future of the nation. As she walked around, inspecting their positions and adjusting the adequate way to hold their fire guns and to stand, her heels clicked on the tiled floor of the room, echoing loudly. Olivia turned her head slightly to observe the petit redhead's figure, as she graciously moved around, hands resting behind the small of her back, the same place she has touched her seconds before. She turned just in time to see the junior agent staring, before Olivia had the time to turn back her head.

She had noticed the blonde girl staring at her with curiosity, wondering what could have piqued her interest in her: maybe the young agent read her file or had heard her reputation – lord knows she had become a legend in the FBI, not only because of her work in The X-Files and being Mrs Spooky but for being part of The X-Files herself. She could still feel the old imaginary prickling on the base of her neck every time the thought came to her mind.

"That's it for us today. I hope you had found your first class useful. You're dismissed now."

Scully turned to her desk to collect her personal objects, as the other junior agents gathered their things and left the room, leaving behind the lean blonde, fumbling with her gun, as if she could fool Scully. She knew the second the laid eyes on the girl that she was familiar to guns prior to her class.

"Is there anything I can do for you, agent…"

"Dunham. Olivia Dunham, ma'am."

"Right. Dunham. Is there anything I can do for you, agent Dunham?"

"Well, I…" she said, as she walked closer to Scully, a shy smile on her lips. "I just wanted to tell you I admire your work. I attended some of your lectures here in Quantico, on forensics, and I'm really glad to have this opportunity to learn from you. I really admire your work on The X-Files."

"I see," Scully answered. She was getting weary of it, young agents coming to her, curious to know all sort of things about The X-Files and her experience on it. It's not that Scully would renegade those years she experienced; she was just tired of living with them as a burden on her shoulders. And now this twenty-something junior agent was attending her class because of it.

She sighed, the wrinkles on her freckled face more evident now, and felt tired. She nodded and gave Olivia a small smile before uttering a low 'thank you' and leaving the room and the girl behind her.

The next day she headed to her regular coffee shop for her caffeine fix of the morning and found her again, sitting alone on a booth, reading the classified ads of the newspaper, a mug of coffee in front of her, burning hot. There was something about her that reminded Scully of a better version of herself: the quietness and the aura of broken innocence that surrounded the young agent; there was a beauty in the blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and around her face like a halo and the freckled skin made her look like a fallen angel. It wasn't something she would see every day in her students; every day she got very excited albeit serious young FBI agents, who were eager to perform their duty and save the country. Apart from the seriousness, she didn't see the same in Olivia; instead, it was as if she knew her place in the world and just waited for her moment to be called in to participate.

Olivia noticed her stare, as she raised her eyes to call the waitress, and held it for a moment, wondering what could possibly be going on on the redhead's mind. She watched as Olivia ordered her coffee to go – black with no sugar, as she could read in her lips, as Scully talked to the cashier – and left the store as gracefully as she had entered.

Later that week she had yet another marksmanship class with agent Scully, but now she would teach her students how to set up their guns before loading them. Olivia watched attentively as Scully talked in her serious voice, almost a monotone, each step though the setting up procedure. Her small hands followed in action as the words rolled from her lips, earnestly moving around the revolver, fingers curling around it. Olivia found herself captivated by the scene and to her; it was utterly erotic, the mixture of confidence and femininity she exuded: a sharp contrast in her stern voice, explaining the procedures, the make up on her face and the high heels; Olivia knew that Scully was the kind of woman that, even in her child-like stature and delicate figure, would impose herself and earn everybody's respect.

Olivia lost track of the senior agent's explanations as her eyes drifted down her body, over her mouth, observing the way it curled around the words she knew perfectly well, after so many lectures. The blue eyes not focused on the gun in her hands but in each and every agent in the room, listening attentive to her every word. Then those eyes stopped on Olivia, fixing themselves on her longer than they should have. She could swear she saw a small knowing smile on the corner of Scully's mouth.

She went to her one-bedroom apartment that evening with weird thoughts in her mind,

THE END


End file.
